


Blood Brothers

by BreadBabe1993



Category: Iron Maiden (Band)
Genre: Brotherly Love, Ghosts, Haunted House, Mild Gore, Other, Stabbing, Torture Porn, Unrealistic science and anatomy, anemia, attempted sacrifice, mild drowning, mutual cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:34:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29170410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreadBabe1993/pseuds/BreadBabe1993
Summary: Hey, parents! Are you tired of all the porn on AO3? Well, here's some family friendly gore just for the kiddos.Nicko gets kidnapped by a ghost and it's up to Steve to save him. This is probably someone's fetish.
Relationships: Steve Harris & Nicko McBrain
Kudos: 3





	Blood Brothers

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction on here. Hooray. I had a nightmare a while back and wrote this monstrosity about it. Up to the first set of asterisks was written by my sibling as a joke in collaboration. The sibling wishes to remain anonymous. The rest is mine. Enjoy.

The dark forested road seemed to stretch on endlessly. The Maidens were far beyond uncomfortable from hours spent sitting in the cramped station wagon during their American tour. The band had been forced to downsize from their very own luxury tour bus, as Adrian had wasted all their money on a decrepit shrimp boat which sank during its maiden (HA!!!!) voyage. 

“Oi, oi think we’ya LAWST!!!” Bruce bruced brucily from the backseat. He leaned forward and poked his head up next to Dave’s in the passenger seat to look at the map in his hands.  
“We’re not fawkin’ lost!” Steve shot back, yanking Bruice back into his seat by his long brown hair.  
“We’re pullin’ ova at the NEXT STOP I SEE!” Nocko declared. He was the one driving, so his word was law. 

THEN, RIGHT ON CUE, the guys were blinded by a blinking neon sign, reading “MOTEL” in bright red letters.  
They pulled into the parking lot. Everyone got out and stretched their short little man legs, cramped and folded like accordions from the long car ride. They all walked into the motel’s check in room. Sitting at the desk was an elderly woman with her greying hair pulled back into a bun. She looked like a mummified witch or some shit.

“Good eeeeeevening, gentlemen…….” she cacklrd, revealing rows of rotting, horse-like teeth inside her mouth.  
“Uh, yah, you got rooms for six” Adrian asked nervously, scratching his grody goatee thing. 

“Yessssssss……. you can have our biggest roooooms…… all for just twenty dollars” she said, reaching out her long veiny hand wiggling her long thin fingers. What a steal!

All the other guys stared at Adrian, expecting him to pay up with his own money as revenge for the shrimp boat.

“Bloody ‘ell…..” 

(Wah-Wah trumpet!!!)

The maidens paired up; Dave and Adrian, Bruce and Janice, and finally, Steve and Nicko. They said their good nights to each other before heading to their rooms, which were, curiously, on opposite ends of the complex. None of them had really registered how strange the situation was; hours of driving had fogged their brains enough already, but it seemed as though something in the motel was clouding their thoughts even more. 

Steve and Nicko entered their room, which, to their relief, was nicer than what the outside appearance of the motel would have led them to believe. Still, it was far from luxurious, with a cheap red shag carpet, strange dark stains on the peeling wallpaper, and a musty, metallic odor in the air. Nicko’s fucked up nose crinkled as it met the dank air, but he didn’t give it a second thought. 

The two quietly washed up and undressed before crawling into their beds. An uneasy feeling hung over them both, feeling like a blanket left out on the clothesline during a rainstorm. Neither of them said a thing. As they lay in their beds, staring up at the bumpy plaster ceiling, Steve turned over to flip the bedside lamp off, and caught a glimpse of Nicko’s face. Their gazes met, conveying to the other a shared feeling of dread. 

They both felt it. Something was terribly wrong. But neither of them felt they had the energy to do anything about it. Nicko gave Steve a weak smile, trying his best to silently reassure his friend that everything would be fine. Little did they know, everything would not be fine.

***  
(THIS IS WHERE MY PART OF THE STORY STARTS)

Nicko sits shirtless with an iron collar on his neck and reversed needle-spiked cuffs on his wrists. Blood dribbled down his fingertips and onto the floor. He shifted trying to resist the drug-induced stupor obfuscating his little blond head. Syringes were scattered across the floor. The veins in his arms were bruised. Chains holding him in place clinked together slightly. Across the room with his left eye vividly blackened stood his friend who watched helplessly. His posture was shifted in the way of favoring one foot like the other was in pain. The pained leg in question had a dark, dried bloodstain and a hole at the knee of his jeans. He lowered his dark head and dropped his gaze timidly.  
The entity hovering over Nicko grinned. It glided from Nicko over to the nervous little Steve and ran its clammy hands through his dirty hair. Its fingers caressed his jawline and tilted his chin up. Steve stared over at Nicko as his body lolled against the arm of a couch. The entity put pressure on Steve's jaw. He swallowed. The entity rolled its hand over pressing its thumb over Steve's trachea. It gently wrapped its hand around his neck seemingly only to intimidate him.  
The entity was tall. It towered over Steve at nine feet. Black shadows from the entity's cloak whipped around Steve's ankles and the entity tightened its hold on his throat. In a panic, Steve grips the wrist of the entity and swallows again feeling saliva accumulate uncomfortably in the back of his throat.  
“Nick...” He gasps, glancing over at his friend.  
“He's mine.” The entity growls. There was nothing strangely ethereal about its voice. It sounded normal for a ghost or whatever it was. “He will die. He is my sacrifice. Leave.”  
The entity made an attempt to pull Steve away from the spot where he stood. Being the stubborn little bastard he is, he resisted and feasted his sappy brown eyes onto the entity. He dug his bare feet into the carpet. Dirt and wood chips poked into his toes and in between, scratching at the balls of his feet. Blood oozed around the wounds. The entity looked back at him with an amused curiosity rather than malice, or so it seemed. In that instance it changed its mind and shoved Steve to the ground.  
“Have it your way.” It said. The entity produced a paring knife from its robes and tossed it at Steve. “I had other plans for that knife,” it glanced over at Nicko, “but you can use it to defend yourself, I suppose.”  
Steve picked up the knife and glanced over it. He half expected to have to fight the demon in front of him for Nicko.  
“You may leave at any time. I don't want you.” The entity said. “All of the outside doors are open. Once you leave, however, poor little Nicko here is mine. I will give you until the end of tomorrow to save your friend, if you so wish to.”  
“W-what-”  
“Bring me a liver. Any liver from inside this house.” It flashed him a smile of perfect horse teeth. “Hurry, kiddo.”

Steve stood there looking from the entity to Nicko. Where was he supposed to get a liver? Fuck. He had a knife. He could stab the entity, but it was staring at him. There was a bit of an itch in the back of his mind almost as if he could feel the itch in his brain. He looked away from the entity and walked out of the room. He offered the room one more glance before clutching the knife in his right hand. Steve walked out stepping on splintered wood down some dark hall. It felt like the shadows were following him. He was dazed to say the least, unsure of where to start. He didn't even remember coming into the house other than needing to rescue Nicko. His mind was a bit hazy and things warped around him moving him slower to the extent to this feeling of walking in molasses. His feet felt heavy. His weight seemed to ebb on and off.  
By the time his meandering around the house seemed to come to an end, he found the kitchen. Finally. He searched everywhere that might have a liver in it. There was an unkempt sink with roaches crawling out of the drain. Surely, there's not a liver in the sink. The entity did not specify the importance of a liver, he realized. How would a liver help save Nicko? Whatever. That's not important. He rummaged around the kitchen still with his little paring knife in hand. He opened up a large freezer against the wall. It was big enough to hold a corpse. Inside it, however, was no corpse. There were various meats packaged separately and neatly. This freezer might be the cleanest thing in the entire house.  
No liver was in the damn freezer. Steve moved over to the fridge. It was empty aside from some suspicious stains and some mold on the sides and it smelled strongly of spoiled milk that fouled the taste of the air. He felt a gust of air from the window behind him and looked out onto the clear full moonlight. The glass of the window was broken and it was just big enough for him to crawl through with some injuries if he so desired to leave.  
He choked on dust billowing around him. His eyes watered. He continued sauntering to the end of the room. He heard a woman scream at the end of the T in the hallway and felt his stomach lurch. The shadows rapidly began to contort and chase after his feet. He panicked and ran backwards into the kitchen. He stabbed his heel on a piece of broken wood jutting from the ground. Steve yelped as he fell. The shadows darkened the wood in front of him and he slid himself under the sink and waited helplessly for them to decide to leave. He pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in his arms. The heat from his breath and the dust around him slowly began to suffocate him and he had no choice except to come up for air. A giant bruise was formed around the bloody splinters in his now injured foot. The hole from the board in his foot was oozing lightly. It didn't superficially look bad, but it still hurt.  
He saw briefly a Cheshire smile in the walls and launched himself out from under the sink cupboard. He ran in the way of the unexplored hallway, sprinting. He was experiencing runner's high. Adrenalin surging. He didn't feel any pain. Just running. Steve was just barely aware of things chasing him. There was another door. It was a door to the outside. He skidded to a halt and walked to the door. Sweat and grime drenched his face and hair and he could see his breath; it was so cold. He took a little too much time staring longingly at the door. He could leave, but that would mean leaving Nicko to die.  
The shadows on the door morphed into a demon and it charged at him. Steve gasped and jumped backwards landing on the ground as the demon soared over him. As he lie on his back, there was a violent pulsating feeling in his hand and this ebbing cold feeling of stabbing pain. His vision tunneled and blurred. He lifted up his hand and had a wave of nausea wash over him. Lodged in between his radius and ulna right at the base of his right arm was the blade of his paring knife. He stared dazed at his hand as the pain intensified. He stood up and cried in terror. His stabbed wrist was bleeding. He grabbed the knife by the handle and prepared himself for pulling it out. Luckily for little Steve it wasn't lodged into the artery in his wrist. 

Somewhere in the house he could feel the entity laughing at his pain, just like from earlier when he left the room where Nicko was held hostage. Steve took a couple of deep breaths before pulling the knife out. It didn't come out as cleanly as he had hoped. The handle was slick with his blood so his other hand kept losing its grip. He groaned pathetically and began shouting frantic prayers while working the knife out of his wrist. It was out. There was blood everywhere. His already tunneled vision started to static and a cold sweat dripped down his forehead. He collapsed on the ground heaving dry sobs at the pulsating pain in his wrist. He cradled his arm to his chest and looked at the damage that had been done. Moving his fingers in the slightest caused him agony. He inclined his head and rested it against the wall behind him. He looked back at his arm and wrapped it in his grimy shirt. The microscopic filth stung his wound. He used the knife to cut part of his shirt off and used that strip as a tourniquet. His eyes watered. He gritted his teeth and swallowed again.  
Steve leaned back and panted. He cradled his arm back to his chest and felt around for something to use as a crutch for standing up. He meandered down the dark hallway losing awareness of his surroundings. His body was drenched in cold sweat. He limped around and had stumbled a couple of times. He could see the veins in his eyes pulsating around his tunneling vision.  
His head jerked involuntarily at the sound of a woman screaming. He panted shallow breaths and limped onward. Everything was dark, but not enough for vision impairment. Something shining caught his eyes in one of the bedrooms. These two shining white orbs no bigger than golf balls were suspended in the air. Light flickered in the room and he realized that it was a woman in a wet and dirty white wedding dress was staring back at him. Her hair was long, dark, and slightly messy. She moaned in a fit of despair and stood up from the bed Steve didn't realize she was sitting on.  
“Need some help there, love?” She cooed to him in a Latino accent. “My name is Maria. Will you help me find my two children? I lost them near the river.”  
As she got closer to him he shied away. She glided up to him and gently curled noticeable unnaturally long fingers around his leg and gently, yet unceremoniously up his thigh. He broke her gaze and looked down at her hands. Her fingers were swollen and twisted with the skin broken and bones far longer than what nature had intended. They had seemingly been filed into scythes. Steve screamed and shoved her away, lamely making an attempt at a run for it limping badly from his injured heel. The woman wailed and yelled after him, “You DARE reject me?”  
He didn't see her vanish behind him. Only now he could hear only her weeping. It was deafening. He blinked and she was right in front of him glaring at him. They butted heads and he fell against the wall behind him. The wall cracked from the force of his fall. The angry woman screamed at Steve. She drew her arm back slightly as he was making his way up to run away again. She then thrust her arm forward and buried her fingertips in his abdomen, slicing his skin. Her hand curled upward with those scythe-like bones tearing into his diaphragm into his chest cavity. She lifted him off of the ground dragging him up the wall as she did so. He choked out a strangled cry and gripped her forearm tightly. His teeth were gritted in agony. The sound of howling wind echoed throughout the house. The ghost woman curled her fingers inside of his rib cage and selected spaces in between his ribs and slowly stabbed outwards.  
Her fingers sliced open spaces in between his ribs and came out through his muscle and flesh. He squirmed and dug his fingernails into her arm clawing desperately to get her hand out of his chest. She flexed her fingers and with a sickening crunch he felt the air in his lungs leave his body. She had broken his lower ribs and he could not breathe. His dark hair fell around his face as he doubled over her arm. She abruptly yanked him from the wall and smashed him against the other wall before dragging his body to the bathroom beside her bedroom. She held his head under water in the bathtub. The most of a struggle she got from him was him squeezing into her arm before he fell unconscious. Wailing, she dragged him back to the hall and deposited him on the floor. 

***

Faint light flickered across Steve's vision and his consciousness faded and returned. His drenched body was numb and head throbbing, threatening to split. Breathing hurt. Shaking, he managed to push himself up and lean against the wall behind him. He coughed blood out, followed by vomiting the bathtub water. He choked and gasped, working oxygen back into his sore lungs. Something else was wrong. He tilted his head up dazed and could see an indention in the wall where he had been smashed against it. Feeling began to creep its ugly way into his body and he was aware of how much pain he was in. His back had a violent, dull throb. The back of his head felt stabbing. His vision was still fucked up, but something else was wrong.  
The left side of Steve's head was numb. He furrowed his eyebrows and gritted his teeth again. He looked over at a dull light and realized that something was wrong with his vision. At least in his left eye. He tentatively rubbed his eye with his uninjured hand. He shifted and looked down at his badly bloodied torso. He reached his hand over and gently touched his broken ribs that had pierced through his flesh. There was a hole made in his solar plexus. He looked up at the ceiling and began breathing heavily.  
“Fuck.” Steve groaned. He looked back down in a daze that had arose to panic. He squirmed on the floor working his way to stand back up. He had almost fainted as he did so. He was anemic. The angry ghost lady had done him a favor in sheathing his paring knife in his outer thigh while he was unconscious.  
Steve leaned against the wall and sobbed as he yanked the knife out of his leg and clutched at the wound. He dragged his feet and leaned against walls trying to keep himself from falling over. The anemia was far worse than the cold stabbing of some wounds and dull throbbing of others. He managed to saunter his way back into the kitchen and back into the living room where Nicko and the entity were. The entity was painting some sort of sacrificial symbols on Nicko's arms, chest, and forehead.  
“Ah-ha. I see you have returned with no liver.” The entity sneered at Steve while continuing its painting on Nicko's body. “No liver means no Nicko.”

Steve dragged himself to the couch and uncomfortably collapsed on it.  
“I ain't done yet.” He breathed. He looked over at Nicko who still just sat there leaning against the arm of the couch. His mouth was slightly agape and his eyes were barely open. Steve gritted his teeth and furrowed his eyebrows. He looked down at his ripped open torso and then back at the ceiling praying that if there was a god that he would be helped. He continued to silently pray as, in a Seppuku style, he cut into the meat of his abdomen. It burned and blood spurted out of the wound. He trembled and cried weakly, then in a daze he began to prod at his internal organs until he found his liver. He was shaking and his heart was racing. The blood loss had diminished his fear. The entity stopped painting on Nicko to watch as Steve measured out his own liver and used the dirty paring knife and cut the lobes of his liver out. It happened pretty fast.  
This surprised the entity to say the least. It watched as Steve pushed himself from the couch and fell face down on the floor hyperventilating. He looked up at the entity and offered it his liver.  
“Hmmm.” The entity hummed to itself. It wiped away the paint off of Nicko and snatched Steve's liver from his hand. It inspected the liver turning it over in its clammy hands. It then turned to Steve who was doubled over on his good hand and knees shaking quite violently from his anemia. The entity flashed Steve a grin before picking bits off of the liver and using that to produce more full-sized livers until there was a giant pile of liver on the ground in front of Nicko. It walked over to the blond and uncuffed Nicko's bloody hands and relaxed the chain holding his neck in place. Nicko's head wobbled a little as he looked up at the entity. It cupped Nicko's face. “Here's some dinner for your trouble. Your friend made you some liver.”  
Nicko's gaze flickered from the entity to the pile of liver in front of him and, as if he had been commanded, he took one of the lobes of Steve's cloned livers and sloppily ate it. Steve sprawled out on his back on the floor in agony. The entity picked up the paring knife and wiped the blood off of it before handing it back over to Steve. He stared confusedly at it.  
“I have something for you to eat too.” The entity taunted Steve. “Take the knife.”  
The entity's instructions to Steve were something he didn't quite believe he heard correctly. It pointed over to Nicko who was sitting there eating the liver with one hand at a steady pace. Steve stared at his friend mortified, but he dragged himself over to Nicko and grabbed his arm. Shaking still, he slipped the blade of the knife in between the drummer's bicep and his flesh, peeling it apart. Blood gushed out of the wound as Steve cut into Nicko's arm. Nicko stopped eating the liver and winced in pain, jerking his arm away from Steve.  
“Eat the liver, boy!” The entity snarled at Nicko before striking him on the side of his face leaving a livid bruise. In a zombie-like state, Nicko resumed his liver eating. Steve had cut a nice square out of Nicko's epidermis and carved the bleeding and pulsating muscle from underneath the flesh. Nicko had started showing signs of pain and looked back over at Steve.  
“What are you doing?” He slurred. Steve was already working on eating Nicko's arm muscle. Carving it out and eating it, Nicko looked horrified for the moment.  
“Eat the liver.” The entity told Nicko. “Eat the entire pile of it!”  
“Why?” Asked the drummer.  
“It will regrow your arm muscle.” It told him. Nicko stared in awe and confusion at the entity trying to process that logic. Steve had his forehead pressed against Nicko's shoulder and whined. He was still losing blood and his consciousness. The entity had addressed him. “Eat his arm meat. Don't stop until your friend has eaten the entire pile of liver.”  
Steve put the knife down and sank his teeth directly into Nicko's arm. He ripped out the muscle and swallowed it much like a wild animal. He had gotten so much of the meat out of Nicko's arm that the drummer couldn't move it. Nicko was so aware of Steve eating his arm and panic ate the liver just as the entity told them with Nicko eating Steve's liver it grew back his bicep muscle.  
Steve and Nicko resumed their mutual cannibalism throughout the night, following the entity's instructions. By morning, Nicko was unconscious on the floor. Steve was laying on the couch. The blood vessels in his eyes were still pulsating and he was sure he'd die from blood loss or an infection... or both.  
Nicko jerked abruptly awake and stared at his arms. They had healed for the most part, but they were sore and tender. There were great ugly scars on his biceps from where Steve had carved into them with the paring knife.  
“What the fuck, 'Arry?” Nicko snarled. He was angry. He didn't really remember Steve eating his biceps all that well from the night before, but he knew it was him.  
“Nick?” Steve breathed. The two made eye contact. Nicko's anger had vanished upon seeing his friend on the couch. He strode over to Steve and dropped to his knees. He lifted up a hand and gently brushed strands of Steve's hair away from his face. Nicko scooped Steve up in his arm and gently cradled him before sitting down on the blood soaked couch. He stroked his thumb over Steve's face and kissed him on the forehead now afraid that his friend may die. He tried talking to Steve, but his words went unheard. Steve's ears were ringing. His body was throbbing. Every little movement Nicko did hurt him even worse. He sucked in a breath of agony through his teeth. Nicko reassured Steve that he was going to get him out of there.  
Nicko scooped Steve up a second time and carried him to the front door where he ran outside looking for someone to help. Steve was limp in Nicko's arms and his mouth was slightly agape. His breathing was shallow and painful.  
“No...” Nicko whispered. He ran out through the yard of the house and just ran in one direction until he came across a slow river. He climbed into it and gently rested Steve in it. He frantically cleaned off the blood on Steve's body. Steve was already rather cold, so the river water wasn't helping him much. Nicko slowed his cleaning pace and just took to stroking Steve's face that was contorted under the sunlight. His eyes were closed and his breathing was quite slow. Nicko picked Steve back out of the water and trekked on looking for the other guys. 


End file.
